


I'll always be proud of you

by wisia



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-15
Updated: 2015-04-15
Packaged: 2018-03-23 01:28:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3749884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wisia/pseuds/wisia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve received a lot of fanmail from children while under ice. He just didn't expect to get one from Tony Stark much less a whole bunch.</p><p><a href="https://ficbook.net/readfic/328960"> Russian Translation </a>  by <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/users/no_pretending/pseuds/no_pretending"> no_pretending </a></p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll always be proud of you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [brandnewfashion](https://archiveofourown.org/users/brandnewfashion/gifts), [krusca](https://archiveofourown.org/users/krusca/gifts).



> Based off this post from krusca and brandnewfashion. It's awesome:
> 
> http://krusca.tumblr.com/post/116425959018/steve-being-given-dozens-of-boxes-of-letters-from

Steve doesn’t know Phil Coulson that well, but he knows a good man when he sees one. It is this thought that makes him ask about the Captain America trading cards. Natasha gets the cards for him, still blood stained. Steve signs them, and they’re delivered to the tombstone by Clint.

“Why the long face?” Natasha asks. Steve turns his gaze away from Clint’s retreating back. The cards will get there safely.

“I wish I could have signed them earlier,” Steve says. It’s a silly thing because there really wasn’t any time to sign anything when there were monsters to fight.

“I see,” Natasha says. It’s enough to make Steve talk. Elaborate.

“I just—I could have given him a good memory or something.”

Natasha smiles then. “Aren’t you the good guy?”

He’s not. Steve really isn’t.

“You keep your eye out in the next week or so. I’ve got something for you, something you can do if not for him.”

“What?”

But Natasha’s quick to leave, and she leaves him standing there on the street. The air is cool, and the sight is pretty. Steve knows what he’s doing isn’t quite enough. He goes back in, hoping for a mission.

Natasha’s item comes two weeks later instead of one as promised in the form of several large boxes. Lots of boxes actually. She doesn’t apologize, and Steve assumes whatever she was doing took a while.

“Hey, gramps.”

It’s enough to make Steve want to roll his eyes, but he raps his knuckles against the toppest most box.

“What is this?”

“Your work,” she says simply. Steve stares, but he dutifully pries open the box messily, tape sticking to his fingers. He looks inside, and there a bunch of envelopes, all neatly stacked. Steve takes the first one out, and it’s addressed to…him?

“What?” Steve says stupidly. The handwriting is childish, and he thinks he knows but he looks to Natasha for confirmation.

“You had a P.O. Box that children can write and send letters to you.” Natasha shrugs, and Steve is blown. His fingers shake just the slightest as he opens the letter and reads it.

 

_Dear Captain America,_

_My name is Ted, and I really like how you beat the bad guys. I want to be a hero like you too when I’m grown up…_

 

“This—“ Steve doesn’t know what to say. He had known he was doing something in the war, had received letters just like this one from kids then too, but it was different to see it. That Captain America made a difference when he was just some guy from Brooklyn, even after all these years.

“Yup,” Natasha says, popping the ‘p’. “I’m pretty sure Coulson wrote a couple too. All yours.”

And Steve takes it seriously. It’s the least he could do. He reads them whenever he gets a chance, in between missions and during meals, whenever he can’t sleep at night because he’s still dreaming about the past. Sometimes, Steve writes back. Not to all of them because there is a lot, but those that could use it even though it’s been years past.

Then, Steve finds one from Anthony E. Stark. His eyes widens. It’s a little hard to remember that Tony was once a child too and must have grown up hearing about him. He takes it out carefully, curious.

 

_Dear Captain America,_

_How are you doing? I’m Anthony Stark. I just want to let you know that I recently build my first circuit board, and it’s really, really amazing. Because it means that I can one day search for you. My dad is Howard Stark…_

 

And Steve has to smile. The handwriting isn’t quite neat, the problems of being four years old, but it was clear that Tony was a genius from the sentence structure and vocabulary. When he finishes the letter, Steve puts it aside to keep by his bedside table. If anything, it’ll help whenever Steve finds himself entirely frustrated by Stark’s actions and words.

A week later, Steve finds a second one in the pile. Tony writes about making a better circuit board. It has to be better otherwise Howard wouldn’t be happy, and Tony really wants to find Steve. It’s innocent enough, but Steve has to wonder at that push to build another circuit board. Or maybe Steve was reading too much into it.

Then, there’s a third letter. And a fourth, and a fifth, and it dawns on Steve just how often Tony wrote to him. Each letter reveals a little something more, and they all go on in the same vein about making Howard happy, about finding Steve and wanting to be more like Captain America. It’s downright depressing, and Steve doesn’t know what to do.

He does.

“Really?” Tony drawls. His sunglasses are off his face for once, and Steve can look him in the eyes properly.

“Yes,” Steve says. Tony has been asking him for weeks to come to the Tower, and Steve has been refusing because he doesn’t want to impose. He also couldn’t imagine living with someone he could barely get along with.

“Well,” Tony says after a pause. “When?”

Steve is surprised Tony doesn’t have anything more to say than that, but he takes it. He has to learn and make their relationship work outside of battle.

“Uh, when are you available?”

Tony snorts. “I’m available any time or day.”

“I thought that was Jarvis,” Steve blurts out because everyone knows Tony Stark is a busy man. Tony’s eyebrows go up in surprise.

“Only sometimes,” Tony says. “But you say the word, and I’ll be there.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

And Steve is only mildly surprise that Tony really is there when he moves in. In fact, Tony personally escorted Steve from his lone apartment all the way to the Tower. He, of course, refuses Tony’s offer to help move his boxes of Captain America letters. Steve doesn’t want to know what Tony would say, especially if he knew that Steve has been reading Tony’s letters.

The letters are slower and fewer as Steve continues to read them. It sheds a light on Tony that makes Steve’s heart ache.

“You’re drinking?” Steve asks. Tony raises his glass to him and drinks.

“Nope,” Tony says, but he pours himself another glass.

“You’re drinking,” Steve states and cringes inwardly.

“You’re repeating yourself, you know that, Cap?”

Steve shakes his head. “You shouldn’t—“

“Nuh-uh,” Stark stops him with a hand. “Nope. If you don’t want to drink, that’s fine, but no need to comment on me.”

And Steve thinks back to those letters. Of the ones with shaky handwritings that dips down blue lines, uneven. Tearstained scoring the ink. Because Tony wasn’t good enough for Howard, and MIT was a terribly lonely place for a teenager to be.

“Just drink a little less,” Steve says. He leaves because he doesn’t want to see how drunk Tony gets. It doesn’t matter if Tony could still function. He shouldn’t have to drink to be fine.

But the letters give Steve courage. Reminds him that there were misconceptions, and Steve takes Tony to the gym.

“I don’t need this,” Tony says. He’s still in his suit, hands shoved in his pocket, looking entirely bored. Steve suppresses his annoyance.

“You’re still only human outside of that tin can.”

That gets a reaction.

“My suit isn’t a tin can, and it’s more than I can say about your spandex clad ass.”

Steve closes his eyes and counts.

“Stark, so help me but you’re going to train with me.”

“I don’t think so.”

“You think you can take me on right now?” Steve asks. He knows a challenge would reel Stark in, and it works almost too well.

“Bring it.”

Steve has to hide a smile. It’s probably wrong, but he can’t help but feel smug at putting Tony down. It was a good stress relief.

“Okay,” Tony exhales hard. “Training.”

After that, Tony joins him in the gym as often as his schedule allows. Somehow, it evolves into movie nights and before Steve knows it—they have some sort of friendship. He still doesn’t tell Tony about the letters though.

But it’s really astonishing how much Tony kept up with writing to Steve. All the way to age seventeen, and Steve dreads to read it.

He reads it.

 

_Howard and Mom are dead. And you’re dead too. It’s time I grow up._

 

It’s short and curt, and Steve stares at the words for a very long time. He thinks he understands. A week after that letter, and what a timing that was! The Starks’ death are remarked on every media channel there was. Steve lets Tony stay in the workshop and brings food down hoping the man won’t drink himself to death.

“I’m sorry,” Steve says quietly, under the loudness of Tony’s music. Tony doesn’t hear him, and that’s all right. Steve just sits sand sketches, hoping the week will go by faster for them both.

It is the last letter, and Steve doesn’t expect it. There is no name or return address. There is only one single sentence on a single sheet of drafting paper, but Steve knows who it is instantly.

 

_I hope you’re proud of me._

 

Tony is confused when Steve comes down to his workshop later.

“What’s this?” Tony asks. He smiles and jokes. “A love letter?”

“Something like that,” Steve replies.

 

_Tony,_

_I’ll always be proud of you._

_Love, Steve._


End file.
